The Warmest Winter✓

Forty-seven

My body is suddenly cold, unable to feel anything passing through its system. The medium size office of my gynecologist feels like a tiny box all of a sudden, sucking air out of my lungs, after hearing the results of my fertility test.

"Kira?" Dr. Adams calls softly, but I don't respond. My eyes are still nonplussed, hypnotized by the white walls mingled with daylight oozing through the window. "Kira?"

"So . . ." I slowly lift my eyes at her, my mouth agape as I'm too stupefied to hold my lips sealed. "You mean to say that . . . that I can't get pregnant? Is that it?" I croak, tears welling stubbornly in my eyes, blocking my vision.

She told me I have a condition that represses my ovulation cycle. She said that I'm not okay and I don't know what else could that entail. Am I infertile? Fear creeps me inside.

"Listen." Dr. Adams exhales deeply and takes off her glasses. Gently she puts them on top of her desk. I swallow tightly, nervously, my eyes on her every move. "You have a hormonal imbalance, Kira. The levels of your FSH-the hormones responsible for stimulating the ovaries to produce mature eggs-are apparently very low. That's why you can't, or couldn't get pregnant, even when you had unprotected intercourse several times."

I don't understand a thing. My world has suddenly quit revolving, my mind blank. Only fear and a strange sensation blanket my being, making my skin shudder despite the woolen trench coat I'm wearing.

"No, that can't be." I stand up sharply, my lips twitching into several tremors, but no more words escape them.

"Kira, sit down please." Dr. Adams instructs. "I understand it wasn't what you were expecting, but it's a great thing that you've learned of it sooner, don't you think?"

"No, you don't understand! You can never understand unless you hear from someone that you're incapable of having children." I laugh hysterically.

"I know. But panicking won't help us sort the situation, Kira. We need to have a serious talk and see how we can work on the situation."

"Oh yeah? How? Can you fix it?" I quiz her desperately and she takes a deep sigh, rubbing her nose bridge. "You're not sure, right?" I laugh again, nervously while rubbing my moist palms together. "Sorry, Doc. I know you're not to blame. Mh-mmh, no one's to blame here."

No one but me. It's my fucking problem. I never have anything go as planned! It always goes wrong somehow. It's my problem!

Staring at me worriedly, Dr. Adams pinches a button on her telephone. "Bring a glass of water, please," she orders and at the same time I slump down onto my chair, my knees wobbly.

"What do I do now?" I whisper, thinking out loud.

Is this really happening? I glance at Dr. Adams, who's still giving me a concerned stare, and I discern it's far from an illusion.

This is fucking real!

But why? Why can't any stage of my life go smoothly and have me enjoy it as other people do? My childhood was a mess. My teenage years, too. And now my marriage . . . I shut my eyes.

"Have some water," Dr. Adams instructs coolly, a minute or two later.

I realize there's a glass on the table, and the door shuts indicating someone's exit.

"Drink it. You need to calm down, Kira," she insists.

Reluctantly, I hold the glass with shaky hands and gulp a half of its content.

"Listen, Kira," Dr. Adams begins after the momentary silence full of tension and unspoken words on my part. "Just because you can't get pregnant at this moment doesn't particularly mean you're infertile."